See Her Broken
by pretty grave
Summary: Like every war, love has its battles. Some are lost, others won, but there's one thing that Paige Michalchuk is sure about: they are never pretty. Updated 01-02-05.
1. one: i'll run away with you by my side

It's hot outside. That sticky, uncomfortable kind of hot where the bottom of your thighs cling to the car seat and when you try to peel them away, a faint wave of pain dances up your spine. The kind of hot where you can feel the beads of sweat inching down your back, threatening the skin beneath the band of your jeans. The kind of hot where you just want to grab a bucket of freezing water and dump it over your head. It's a comfortless feeling, a feeling that makes me reach forward and grab the air conditioner knob and turn it all the way to the right. The air gingerly charms my face at first, until it starts to whip my hair around and I have to turn it back down so I can see the stretch of road in front of me. Heat bounces off of the concrete and the sun is faint in the distance, but its rays aren't nearly as subtle. They are rough and rude and coarse, beating down on me relentlessly through the windshield. I move a hand away from the steering wheel to breeze it through my hair, locks of blonde falling, framing around my face. They are slick with moisture, and so is the back of my neck. That sticky and uncomfortable feeling. My eyes leave the road in front of me and look to the air conditioner, and I can feel my hand tense. I want so badly to turn that knob again, let that cool air hit my face. So I do. And when I look back up to the road, I see I've swerved off to the right a little. Concentration was lost. Hope is already gone. The last thing I need right now is an accident when another accident is the exact reason why I'm running away from Degrassi in the first place.

* * *

Who knew that the girls' washroom can be so comforting. The back of the stall is cool against my back and I let my feet stretch to the other end, crossing over each other, toes curling contently. The lights seem to flicker at all of the right times. Flashes of illumination beating down on me, telling me I'm not worth it. Telling me that I'll never be worth it. All of this serves as just a reminder, though, because I can't remember the last time when I felt like anything. It's like I'm this empty, soulless void with enough glitz and glam to fool even the most cunning of eye. Harboring a vacant and naive heart waiting impatiently for something to come and fill it up. Because the only thing there right now is this coarse bitterness towards the world, towards love, towards boys, and towards everything in between. Once you're hurt, it's hard for you to ever trust again. It's hard for you to ever believe that something good will come out of this game called life. Because it played you time and time before, left you on the sidelines wondering when it would sub you. And then it never did. It left you there, and you had to fend for yourself.

I can't believe that I thought he wanted me for me. It's like this unspeakable rule for guys: get a good roll in the sack with a girl, and you're the man. You're suddenly the epitome of everything slick, and you might as well wear a shirt that says 'Yeah, I hit that.' That's exactly what he did with me. Used me and dumped me. Like I was some doll on some string, his fingers playing with me until he tired of doing so. Like I was some plastic action toy for kids, the excitement in his eyes slowly dying out once he found a more interesting toy to fool around with. I know I shouldn't have let him do that to me. No one does that to Paige Michalchuk, but he found a way in through the walls that I bound so tight. I can picture his smirk now. The shit-eating smirk that tells you he is up to no good. Why didn't I see it before? It's not like I'm blind or anything. I was just blinded by love, and the fact that I might have been loved in return.

Suddenly the girls' washroom doesn't seem so comforting anymore. I close my eyes, trying to block out all of the thoughts assaulting me. It doesn't work. The black of my eyelids overwhelm me. Reminding me there's a hole the size of Texas where my heart used to be. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I wander, I drift into nothing, and I have the sudden urge to lean over the toilet and throw up. So I do. I lift the toilet seat and it spills out of my mouth, like all of the I love you's we shared. After I'm done, I wipe my mouth clean with the back of my hand.

I want to escape from this. I want to forget that any of this ever happened. I want to lose myself, and I want to erase everything that I already am. But where the hell would I go? It's not like there is anywhere in Canada interesting enough to escape to. And it'd be too easy to find me, anyway. I need to go somewhere that no one would expect me to go. Briefly, I contemplate the idea of the states, and New York, and California, and Florida. But there's no way that I could pull that off. Screams of misery and torment echo through my head. I can't let them out. Maybe if I drove out to the coast one day, and screamed all of my pain and frustration out. But with that would go my soul, because if I do, everything would escape me. My heart and my soul and everything that I am, and when they found me lying like a lifeless husk on the sand the next morning, I would drift away, up to the Heavens, where everything would be okay.

I need to get out of here. It's not like I can stay here all day, anyway. Someone was bound to find me, and then I would have to explain myself. I would have to explain how my life came crashing down a few days ago, and I'd have to explain that I don't even know who I am anymore. Scrambling up, my knees feel weak and I want to fall back down to the ground, but I stand strong. Like I should have before, but I didn't know any better. And I don't think I'll ever know any better. My hands desperately work at the lock on the stall and it takes me a few moments before I can finally shove the door open. I can't feel my feet as I stagger towards the sinks, and my breath hitches so far up my throat when I see a pair of eyes looking at me strangely through the reflection of the mirror.

"Paige?" she whispers, and I hate the way she seems so calm about everything. No, I'm not Paige. I'm this blank piece of human, not knowing what the hell I'm doing. But I don't tell her that, because I don't know the answers to the questions I know she'll ask. Always was an inquisitive one. When I don't answer, she takes the initiative to keep talking, stops reglossing her lips. I wish she'd shut up. "What's wrong?"

_I remember we were driving in your car  
The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk  
City lights lay out before us_

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" I repeat myself, my voice laced with craze and anger and bewilderment and I want to run out of that bathroom. But something in her eyes keeps me planted where I stand. It's almost as if she cares, and I have to take a step back because I've never seen that look before. "Are you kidding me? Everything is wrong, Emma. Maybe you haven't noticed. Spinner dumped me. Dean raped me. Hazel can't even talk to me anymore without mentioning how amazing Jimmy is. My life is a fucking mess and you're asking me what's wrong? Well, there you go. That's what's wrong. Everything."

Emma looks suprised, and I feel bad. She probably didn't know I would blow a casket over a simple question. I immediately try to cover up for my anger, but she dismisses it with a wave of her hand. "It's okay, Paige," she replies. "We all have to get it out sometimes."

I feel more connected with her than I ever have before. Like a door just opened, or something. "Yeah," I say, short and simple. I don't want to divulge much more, because I can already feel that heavy lump in my throat dissolving and regenerating with every minute passing by. I have the sudden urge to throw up again. And I probably would have, if it wasn't for Emma stepping up and wrapping her arms around me in a hug. Her embrace is warm and caring, and I let my forehead drop to her shoulder as I cry. Sobs rack violently through my body and Emma holds me, whispering soft nothings into my ear, telling me that everything is going to be okay. But everything is already so messed up. I want to tell her that, to pull away from her and scream that nothing will ever be okay. I have a feeling that won't help.

_Your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder  
I had a feeling that I belonged  
And I had feeling I could be someone_

"Look, Paige," she says, her gentle hand running over my hair, flattening it. I lift myself from her shoulder and her shirt is damp from my tears. She smiles, despite this. "You can't dwell on Dean forever. And Spinner? Paige, Spinner is a moron if he doesn't realize how incredible you really are. He doesn't deserve you."

I can tell she means well with her words, but they make me feel worse. "How can I not dwell on Dean? He took away my innocence, Emma. He took away everything, he took away me." Salty tears continute to spill down my cheeks and onto Emma's shirt, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her arms only tighten around me and hold me against her chest. I wish I could stay like this forever. I wish I could feel like this forever, feel as if I'm secure and safe and there will always be someone there for me. Sure, there's Hazel. There's Terri, Jimmy, and there used to be Spinner. So-called friends. People who sat with me and ate lunch with me and shared their later gossip, people who came close to breaking my shell. But failed in the end. I needed someone to be my rock, and right now, Emma is the closest thing I have to being solid.

"Because if you do, you'll end up like this all of the time. Crying your eyes out on my new shirt. You know, this cost thirty bucks."

I laugh, thankful for her humor. I look up and see that tantalizing smile dancing across her lips, and I can't help but manage a small smile myself. It's true, smiles are contagious. Especially Emma Nelson smiles. Her arms slip away from me and I remove myself from her, taking a step back. It's funny how I started screaming at her and now I'm more open, more free. Like she had the key to what I was hiding away. I feel my smile widening more as I lift my hand to my face, dabbing away the stray tears with my thumb.

_You got a fast car  
But is it fast enough so you can fly away  
You have to make a decision  
Leave tonight or live and die this way_

"God, I feel so stupid. I'm sorry about putting all of this on your shoulders, Em. I guess I just needed someone to talk to."

She nodded, seemingly understanding. "I know, Paige. I know. Don't apologize."

I nod slightly, and step up to the sinks. My face looks different in the mirror. Red, moist. Disheveled. I bend over the sink and splash cold water onto my face, and I can feel Emma's eyes on me. She's wondering if I'll be okay. I reach foward and grab a paper towel, drying my face. When I throw it away, I see Emma smiling at me again.

"Come on, Paige. Let's get out of this washroom." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Heather Sinclaire just walked in, so I have a feeling that it's going to start to stink."

And with that, we walked out of the girls' washroom together. Friendship formed, bond tightly seamed, and an escape from the gas of Heather Sinclaire.

* * *

I'm not sure where I'm going and I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I get there. The only thing I'm sure about is Emma Nelson, sitting in my passenger seat, sound asleep.

A/N: I woke up with this idea this morning, so if seems a little off, that's why. Read and review, please. I love reviews, and ultimately that's what keeps the story going. So tell me if you dig it so far.


	2. two: haunted by broken dreams

"I don't know."

The fingers of dusk stretch lazily across the sky, and the sun slowly begins to set under the horizon. I can feel the added weight of exhaustion on my eyelids. Succulent weight, alurring and enticing and if it wasn't for Emma blabbering about how expensive that gas was a few miles back, I would have fallen asleep right there on the steering wheel. Looks like Emma saved me, again. It seems as if it's habit for her. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't come to my rescue in the washroom earlier. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't reassured me that Spinner was the idiot, not me. And I look over to her now, her head resting against the window, blonde hair framing her face, disheveled and tousled from earlier hours when I opened the sunroof in an attempt to cool us both off. Her white shirt has a slight stain from where I let she let my tears fall. She still doesn't seem to mind, and that is what comforts me most. My eyes drift back to her face, and I watch her as she continues to talk. Those lips are moving, but I'm not hearing a word she says. I don't want to talk about gas right now.

The stretch of country road before me is straight, so I let my eyes curve off to the side. Telephone poles, large oak trees, an occasional small house or two. It's a nice change from Degrassi. A nice change from everything I already know so well. Come to think of it, Degrassi is kind of dull. No, no. Dull doesn't serve it justice. More like boring as hell. There is nothing exciting, no theme parks, no beach, no anything. There is Dean, and there is Spinner, and there is Hazel and Jimmy and Terri and the rest of my comformist goon clique. There's Dylan, and my parents, but right now I'm close enough to the point where I don't care anymore. I don't care where they are, or what they're doing. I don't care what they're talking about at the table when we have the occasional dinner together. I don't care when Dylan comes sneaking in through the door three hours past his curfew. I don't care when my parents yell at me for leaving the orange juice out. I just don't care. They don't understand me anymore. Parents always out of town, Dylan always busy with hockey and Marco or Tom or whoever the hell he's dating now. I'm to the point where I know nothing about them anymore, and it doesn't suprise me one bit.

"Really. Thirty dollars? I bet they don't get a lot of business."

Emma is still talking about gas. I want to reach over and smack her upside the head and tell her to shut up and go back to sleep, but I restrain myself, as hard as that is. Everything was so much more peaceful when she was sound asleep, murming about the environment. Trees or bushes or saving the lake or something like that. It was comforting, more comforting than what I'm hearing now. Gas. The beat of the song on the radio is catchy enough, though, and I let my fingers quietly drum against the steering wheel. It's some acoustic rhythm with soft, heartfelt lyrics. Not exactly my kind of music, but at least it's better than gas. At this point, even if it was some country singer hollering about tractors and horses, anything would be better than gas.

But then I notice she's not talking anymore. I look at her from the side mirror and she's poised, her lips frozen. She's thinking about something. You can tell because two of her teeth are biting the corner of her bottom lip, and she has a distant look in her eyes. Silence has settled around us and it's uncomfortable. I hate it. It's that kind of uncomfortable silence where you want to say something, but you don't know how stupid you'll sound saying it. That kind of uncomfortable silence where you're not sure if you should get up and leave and everything will be easier that way.

Unfortunately, I don't exactly have that option. So, instead, I decide to break the uncomfortable silence with a useful fact. "You like to talk a lot."

Emma, snapped out of her thoughts, looks over at me. It takes her a few seconds to register what I'd said, and by then I was already looking back to the road. The sun was just settling under the horizon and orange and pink are colorwashing the sky, giving off a mellow vibe. I like it. It makes me feel like I'm not running away with Emma Nelson. Like I'm sitting out on my front porch, sipping diet soda with Hazel and sharing the latest gossip we acquired earlier in the school day. I don't want to go back to that.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just, I ramble when I'm excited. Or nervous."

My eyes narrow against the glare of upcoming headlights. "Which one is it?"

"The latter." Emma sighs, and I swear I can hear the faint noise of affliction in her voice. It makes me want to take my hands off of the wheel and wrap my arms around her. Doing so, however, would make the car swerve off into a ditch and hurt us even more than we already are, so I quickly decide against that idea.

"Nervous? Why are you nervous?

I can feel Emma's eyes on me again. "If you haven't noticed. We're like, a hundred or more miles away from home and my parents have no idea where I'm going, or who I'm with, or what I'm going to do, or what I--"

"Rambling again."

"Sorry."

"No worries." I shrug, nodding towards my cell phone, which was perched on the dashboard next to an empty bag of potato chips. "Call them."

Emma shakes her head and leans back into the passenger seat with a defeated sigh. "I can't. Spike would flip a lid. She's already going through so much, with Jack. And Snake. He's.. I just.. no. I can't."

My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, and I look at her from the side mirror again. "Hon, why did you agree to come with me in the first place? If they need you."

She pauses, and she's biting her lip again, as if she was contemplating my question. And after a few moments, she replies. Simply. "Because I need an escape too."

* * *

The rest of the car ride was in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Emma asked a few questions here and there, where we're going, if I have any spare clothes in the back. Luckily I still had some stuff from the picnic the comformist goon clique and I had at the park. A cooler with drinks, some towels, clothes, mostly sweaters. I didn't know what good a beach umbrella was going to do us, so I left that out. Emma seemed satisfied with my answer, anyway.

We had pulled off at a random exit after I announced that I was starving. Save for a bag of overly greasy chips and a few pieces of gum, I haven't had anything to eat all day. The exit was quaint and comfortable, small houses with colorful mailboxes and parents calling in their children to eat tonight's dinner. Those little blue inflatable pools in the front yards and middle-aged men walking their dogs on the sidewalk. I smiled to myself, and wondered what it would be like to live here. In a small house, with a family who loves you for you and knows every last detail about your life. In a neighborhood where your neighbors know about everything you do, and if they catch you sneaking out of your house one night, they won't hesitate to give your parents a phone call concerning their little angel. I looked around again, my eyes floating over and stopping on a family eating their dinner on their front porch. And my smile turned upside down.

"Paige?"

Tearing my eyes off of the family, I look over to Emma, who's since then raised a curious eyebrow in my direction. "Hm?"

"I said there's a diner over there. If you want."

Of course I want. Anything would be good right now. "Sure."

And so I drive into the parking lot of the diner. The outside looks good enough, a few cars pulled into the few parking spaces and a dog tied up to a pole, probably waiting for its owner to finish their meal. I pull into one of the vacant spaces, taking my time doing so because the van seems to be larger than the space is. Emma and I squeeze out of the car and make our way into the diner, Emma taking a moment or two to stop and pet the dog on our way.

As soon as we walk inside, my opinion changes. Some ranky-dank country song is playing on the old jukebox in the corner and the disgusting smell of oil fills my nostrils. The men seated at the counter turn around and look at us as if they've never seen two ordinary teenage girls. One of them is wearing a white tanktop and the other is wearing some flannel fashion disaster. The waitresses are stone-faced and they snap their gum like cows, giving us a look. I turn to look at Emma, hoping to see the same look of despair that's right now crossing my face. Instead, she seems fascinated.

"God, this place. It's so picturesque, so classic. Like it's out of a 50's movie or something."

Emma pratically bounces further into the diner and I want to grab her by her hair, pull her back, and lead her straight to the van. There must be a McDonalds around here somewhere.

"Are you crazy? Emma, look at those men. They're each making a cup of their own drool just looking at you."

She glances over to the two men and winks flirtaciously, playfully. The guy in the too small tanktop looks as if he's going into cardiac arrest, while the other just winks back, probably not aware that Emma was joking. Turning around, she laughs, and grabs my forearm.

"Come on, it's not that bad. And don't worry. If any of them come near us, I know how to kickbox."

"Fine."

We slide into a booth far, far away from the two pedophiles. I grab one of the menus and open it up, scanning over our available choices. One of the stone-faced waitresses struts over to our booth and gives us both a onceover. Her name tag reads 'Lindy'. She's pretty, with auburn hair fried flat with a hair dryer and if it weren't for that white eyeshadow, I wouldn't have made my next comment.

"Nice make-up."

She clicks her gum louder, smiling. Maybe she thinks I was actually complimenting her, I don't know.

"Thanks, sweetcheeks. Can I get you two gals anything to drink?"

Emma, who was previously skimming over the menu herself, looks up to the waitress. I smirk when she raises her eyebrows, most likely noticing the waitresses' shabby make-up as well.

"Um.. I'll have a Sprite, thank you."

"And I'll have a Diet Coke."

Lindy nods at us with a smile. "I'll be right back, then."

I look at Emma, she looks at me, and we both burst out into laughter a second or two later. God, I needed that. I so needed that. Maybe I'll write 'thank you' on a napkin and leave it for her.

Lindy comes back a minute later, carrying our drinks with her. She sets them down in front of us and I grab my drink, sipping at the cola. It's cold and refreshing when it flows down my throat, and I sigh happily. Emma just smiles at her.

"So, are you two lovely ladies ready to order?"

"I'll just have a cheeseburger and fries," Emma says, folding her menu back and handing it to Lindy. I do the same, while telling Lindy that I want a hamburger, sans pickles, and a lot of fries.

Lindy takes our menus after writing down our orders and heads towards the back. I look over to Emma, who's reading the drinks menu with little interest, flipping through the small pages boredly. I seize the opportunity. Seize the day. Carpe diem.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" I ask, leaning back into the seat in an attempt to become more comfortable.

Emma looks up, her eyebrows raised again. "Talk about what?"

I snicker, her question rather silly to me. What do you think, Emma? Where'd you get that shirt from? How much were those flip flops? Come on now. "You know what I mean."

She sighs, her arms crossing over her chest as she leans back into the seat as well. After a few moments, she shakes her head. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about it."

I furrow my eyebrows, confused. And she probably notices, because she keeps going. Was it really that bad? "What I mean is.. I don't want to talk about it right now. I just want to enjoy my grease, have a nice drink, and relax. Maybe later?"

Nodding lightly, I offer her a small smile. "Whenever you're ready."

Our food came shortly after that. We ate silently, sharing a comment or two about the food once in a while. Emma said something about tanktop man and the stain on his shirt. I laughed, trying not to spit out the french fries in my mouth at the same time. After we finished, I made sure to write 'thank you' on one of the napkins with ketchup for Lindy. Emma looked at me weirdly, but didn't question my little note. And we headed off into the night, nothing more than two girls looking for a little sanity in their lives.

_Seeing the ashes in my heart  
They smile the widest  
When I cry inside and my insides blow apart  
I tried to wear another face  
Just to make you proud  
Just to make you put me in my place_

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys. They made me smile. I now have everything planned out for the story so I'm going to try and write those chapters. The lyrics at the end belong to Vertical Horizon - I'm Still Here. I recommend it.


	3. three: bless the broken road

It was getting darker out. The moon suspended from the pitch-black sky, shining like an unblemished coin. Stars suddenly appeared, following each other in patterns. I looked over at Emma. She was sleeping, her sweatshirt curled into a ball and pressed against the window, forming a pillow for her head. Smiling to myself, I turned down the radio so it wouldn't disturb her. We'd been on the road for little over an hour now, after our lovely grease-induced meals at the diner. Emma, soon after departing the restaurant, launched into an 'eighty-words-a-minute' verbal tirade concerning our arteries and intestines, claiming that eating at the diner would ultimately lead to our untimely deaths. Fifteen minutes after the beginning of Emma's lecture, I had successfully learned how to turn her voice out and instead, hum along to the bluegrass on the radio.

Bluegrass?

A part of me wanted to believe that we were far, far away from Canada, and well into the states, where bluegrass existed. Unfortunately, it turned out that there were actually bluegrass fans in Canada. That, and a sign a few miles back letting me know that Toronto was only two-hundred miles away. I briefly contemplated the possibility of a Toronto in the United States and then proceeded to curse myself for not paying attention in grade nine Geography when my cell phone began to ring. I raised an eyebrow at the ringing device, which laid on the headboard, and then looked at Emma. She was still asleep, the irritating tone of my cell phone not tainting her slumber. Sighing, I reach over and grab the cell phone, looking at the top of it. The caller ID flashed 'HAZEL' in bright blue against a gray background. Looking at Emma again, I chewed on my lip.

Debates went on in my head. Should I answer it? Should I ignore it and continue driving? Should I wake up Emma and tell her that snoring isn't attractive?

I decided to go for it; either way, I would have to confront those who I left behind at some point in time. And afterall, Hazel was supposed to be my best friend. I couldn't just ignore her, despite usually doing so on a regular basis.

Flipping the top cover of my cell phone, I pressed a nail against the accept button and raised the receiver to my left ear, keeping my right hand on the wheel, and prepared for the inevitable headache.

"Hello?"

"Paige?" Her voice sounded frantic, as if she had been up all night, worried about my whereabouts. For a brief moment, I felt touched. "Where are you? I've been looking all over for you."

"I'm, uh.." Pausing, I try to think of an answer that would please Hazel and at the same time, halt her inquiries. "At the mall."

"The mall? And you didn't invite me?" She tries to joke. I roll my eyes and lift my foot off of the gas when another car pulls in front of me, giving way for clearance.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." I can feel her hesitate. Even miles away, I know Hazel too well, for both of our own goods. She's probably biting her inner cheek now, trying to think of something to say, something to impress me. I wait, like I usually do, and when she doesn't say anything, I take it on myself to talk.

"Look, is there something you wanted? I'm kind of busy."

She's raising an eyebrow now. Either annoyed with my tone, or afraid that I'm going to start screaming at her. "Don't blow a casket. I was just worried about you."

"You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself," I say, almost colliding with a pick-up truck.

She sighs, a hint of irritation along with it. "Whatever, Paige. Apparently, it's not okay to be the slightest bit worried when your best friend doesn't show up for her last two classes and cheerleading practice, and fails to call you with an explanation."

No, she's definitely not afraid.

I'm not either. "What, I owe you explanations now?"

"I didn't say that."

"What are you trying to say then, Hazel? I'm not seeing a point."

"For God sakes, Paige, are you stupid? I thought I made my point clear. I was worried about you." She pauses, and when I don't say anything, she continues. "It's just not normal for you to miss Spirit Squad when you're the head cheerleader. I know you've been going through a tough time with that break-up with Spin, but--"

I cut her off. Spinner is the last thing I want to hear about now. "It'll be the day that the world is spinning backwards and pigs are flying when Spinner friggin' Mason breaks my heart. We broke up. I'll deal. It's not the end of the world."

"Yeah? Well, It sure seems like it."

"God damnit, Hazel," I hear my voice rising in aggravation. Emma starts to stir, burying her head farther into the sweatshirt and mumbling quiet nothings, but I don't notice. My head is about to explode. "Spinner is the last of my worries right now. Let him have Manny. They deserve each other!"

The phone line connecting us is silent. For a few moments, it's just me breathing heavily, working on regaining my strength from yelling. Hazel's on the other end, not saying anything. I can't handle the silence; it's almost like it's taunting me, and I want it to end.

Fortunately for me, it does. Hazel, in between a sigh, breathes out, "I'm sorry, Paige."

Unfortunately for her, the amount of time it took Hazel to speak up again drove me to the brink. "I don't want your apology. Keep it, wrap it, and shove it up Spinner's ass," I snap, and before I know it, I'm pressing my thumb into the cancel button. I throw my cell phone into the backseat and let out an enormous sigh I didn't even know I was holding in.

By then, Emma had regained consciousness and was sitting up, yawning. She stretched her arms behind her head and let her cheek roll onto her shoulder, and I could feel her eyes on me. Refusing to take my eyes off of the road, though, I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles fading into an unattractive white as I sped past a white sedan.

Raising an eyebrow, Emma finally quipped up. "What was that about?"

I beep at a car that swerves in front of me. "What do you think?"

"I heard Spinner."

"Spinner's an asshole."

Emma smirks, amused. "O-kay. Manny?"

"Slut."

"Tell me about it," Emma sighs, shaking her head. I look at her from the rearview mirror, lifting a curious eyebrow. Emma notices and shrugs, as if what she had said previous was completely normal Emma Nelson talk. "What?"

"Emma Nelson just called her best friend a whore," I muse, tilting my head to the side sardonically. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Manny is far from being my best friend, Paige."

I feel my eyebrows coming together at the bridge of my nose. Confused would be an understatement. "When did that happen?"

Laughing bitterly, Emma shook her head. "Oh, a little after I found her making out with Craig in my bed."

Scrunching my nose, I groan unpleasantly. "Bad images. I hope you washed your sheets."

"Oh, thoroughly."

Emma shifts, turning in her seat a little. I watch her look out the window, her eyes following the cars we pass. "Where are we?"

I tap my hand on the steering wheel, absentmindedly following the bluegrass beat. "No clue. Toronto's supposed to be two-hundred miles away."

Shifting again, Emma moved to open the glove compartment. I watch her, once more confused. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if you have a map."

"Why on earth would I have a map?"

Emma looks at me, and I look back at her, and she's holding up a small traveler's map with a triumphant smile curling her lips. I open my mouth to say something but pause, having nothing to say. She laughs and unfolds the small map.

"Parents usually put these in their kids' cars."

"I don't even want to know how you know that," I remark, switching lanes. Emma chuckles again, while turning the small map around in her hands.

"You said two-hundred miles from Toronto?"

"Uh huh."

"Hmm," Emma muttered, turning the map some more. "We can be in a lot of places. Cochrane, Quebec, Waskaga-something." She stops playing with the map and looks at me. "I think we should stop somewhere and ask."

"I'm not asking a stranger for directions."

"Why not?"

"Because," I look at Emma, who's raising her eyebrows, expecting a good answer. "I mean... you saw those guys at the diner. Total pedophiles in training."

Emma is unfazed. "So? Ask a woman."

Sighing, I turned back to the road. There's a green exit sign, with Exit 201 occupying the center. "Fine."

Emma smiles triumphantly, folding the map up again. She carefully places it in the glove compartment and shuts the door with a resounding click. Meanwhile, I'm turning on the exit, driving down what seems to be an isolated street. The entire street is vacant, save for one or two street lights swaying in the quiet wind. Glancing at Emma, I raise an eyebrow.

"Great idea, genius."

"What?" Emma stares at me, obviously not concerning herself with the fact that we chose ghost exit. "I'm sure there's someone around here somewhere."

"Oh, for sure." I say, sardonically. "And maybe if we're lucky, we'll stumble along Disney Land."

Emma shoots me a look. I return it. The contest doesn't last long after Emma spots what looks to be a gas station out of the corner of her eye. Smiling suddenly, she points towards it. "Look! I knew there'd have to be some civilization around here."

Rolling my eyes in defeat, I pull up into the gas station. The majority of the parking lot is empty, not including two pick-up trucks off to the side, more than likely belonging to the employees. After I turn off the ignition, Emma and I sit in silence.

She turned to me a few seconds later. "Aren't you going in?"

I look at her incredulously. "Yeah. No."

"Someone has to ask."

"There's two people in this car," I point out.

"I'm so not going in there," Emma argues.

"Neither am I," I respond.

"But you're older!" Emma whines.

"Your point?" I challenge.

Emma sighs. "We'll both go in. How about that?"

"Works for me."

Moments later I'm pulling the door open, shuffling in with Emma trailing behind me. A tall man stood behind the counter, smoking a cigarette and watching a small television that resided on the shelf next to him. When the bells ring above the door the man looked up at us, raising his eyebrows.

Emma cowered behind me. I roll my eyes at her behavior and amble towards the counter. "Excuse me, but do you know where we are?"

The man laughs throatily, pulling the cigarette away from his lips. "Why little lady, I only work here. Do you really think I know where we are?"

Catching his sarcasm, I restrain the urge to smack him. "Maybe that was the wrong way to phase the question," I reply, "Let's try again. Where the hell are we?"

Smiling, the man tips his head to the side a little. "Much better, if I do say so myself. You're in Cochrane, darling."

"Thank you," Emma said, heading for the door.

The man, seeing Emma for only the first time, quipped up again. "Ah, there's two? You girls can't be a day over seventeen."

Emma turned around and looked at me, and then at the man. "I'm sixteen, actually."

Mister I-have-to-know-everything chuckled. "Oh?" He turned to me. "And you? Sixteen too?"

"Seventeen," I replied, annoyed. The man seemed to know this, and continued to pursue his interrogation.

"What are you two gals doin' out in Cochrane all by yourself?"

"We're sisters," Emma replied quickly, beating me to the punch. I looked at her strangely and she returned the look, silently telling me to go along with it.

I nodded. "Yeah. We're... visiting family. Here. In Cochrane."

"Mmm," The man voiced skeptically. After taking a long drag from his cigarette, he spoke again. "Well, don't let me keep you from your folks. You two have a nice night, you hear?"

Emma and I nodded simultaneously. Within short seconds we were back in the van, thankful towards the fact that we no longer had the share the same space as Mr. I-have-to-know-everything.

I was the first one to speak up. "I'm never listening to you again."

Emma looked at me, confused. "What?"

Turning on the ignition, I mocked what Emma had verbalized earlier. "Oh, I'm sure there's someone around here somewhere!"

Emma struggled with her seat belt. "I didn't know that we were going to turn on friggin' stranded exit!"

"Yeah, okay, Ms. Let's-go-to-the-gas-station! I'm sure there'll be some gentle old woman to help us there!"

"Shut up!" Emma said, but not forcefully. I turned to her with a grin firmly planted on my face.

Emma rolled her eyes, but not without a little smile. "Just drive, Paige. The further we get away from that creep, the better."

"Sure thing, little sis."

And I did. Drove even further into the night, with Emma sitting in my passenger seat,complaining about Mr. I-have-to-know-everything's cigarette breath.

For some strange reason, it felt right.


End file.
